28 Safeguards
by BMT and SuperMoose
Summary: TFA: Jetfire, Jetstorm, and their combiner form, Safeguard, in the '28 Character' Meme from Livejournal. Rating subject to change.
1. Naughty

"Naughty"

By BlackMarketTrombones

---

"Brother, be careful!"

"I am trying, brother, but you are wiggling too much!"

"Ha! That is because you are so heavy, brother. Perhaps you have been sneaking too many energon goodies, yes?"

"Perhaps _you_ have been slacking on your training and that is why you cannot hold me!"

'_What are those two doin'?'_ Jazz wondered, overhearing a snippet of conversation between the twins. He peered around a corner into the hallway where the voices were coming from and choked back a laugh.

Jetstorm, balancing precariously on his brother's shoulders, was hoisting a bucket over his head and trying to secure it above the door to the Command Center.

"Careful, brother!" Jetfire hissed again without rancor. "You will drop it!"

"I will not! I am being very— Whoa!" Jetstorm overcorrected from a particularly violent wobble and the contents of the bucket sloshed over the edge. The liquid fell to the floor and splattered on Jetfire's legs.

"Brother, look!" he scolded. "You have spilled it! Now I am covered in—"

"Pink paint?" Jazz said with a smirk.

The twins started and finally lost their balance. Jazz dove forward as they toppled to the ground and caught the bucket before any more could spill.

"Ah, Jazz sir!" Jetstorm said a bit sheepishly from the floor.

"We… did not see you there, sir!" Jetfire's expression mirrored his brother's exactly.

"Cyber-ninja," Jazz reminded, tapping on his chestplate. "Bein' sneaky's in the job description." He surveyed the contents of the bucket and the twins' guilty expressions. "I'd ask what you two are up to, but I think I can recognize a prank when I see one."

They looked a bit apprehensive. "Ah…"

"Somethin' ya picked up from the humans?" Jazz guessed, his attention back on the bucket. "Cool, but I think ya gotta problem."

"Huh?" The twins blinked in unified confusion.

"Normally I wouldn't interfere with another cat's prank, but you two gotta serious technical glitch," he said stepping forward nonchalantly. "Human doors swing—they can balance the bucket on the top of the door against the wall. Doors on the ship slide, though." He rapped his knuckles against the door and it slid open to demonstrate. "Nuthin' to sit on."

The twins' faces fell and they exchanged sidelong glances full of disappointment.

"No," Jazz mused, examining the door, "if we're gonna prank Sentinel Prime, we're gonna need somethin' else—magnets, maybe, or some sorta pulley system." He turned back to his shocked subordinates. "Ya _were_ goin' after Sentinel Prime, right?"

"Yes, sir!" they cried in unison, matching mischievous grins gracing their features.

---

They sat huddled together a few cycles later, sniggering quietly as Sentinel Prime's cursing echoed throughout the ship.

"I am thinking we have gotten him good, brother," Jetfire giggled.

"Definitely, brother."

"Sure did," Jazz agreed, "but I think ya got another problem." He smirked as they turned their attention fully on him, looking slightly apprehensive again. "There's only four of us on the ship, and Sentinel Prime ain't gonna suspect me."

Jazz practically melted away and the twins exchanged identical looks of horror as a very angry—and very pink—Sentinel Prime stormed toward them.

---

A few days later, when he found himself drenched in a garish purple after exiting his quarters, Jazz could only grin and laugh.

---

A/N: I just felt so weird not publishing that next installment of "The More Things Change" that I _had _to get something up here. Inspired by the comic "Rise of Safeguard" and yesterday's episode "Where is Thy Sting?" because that's all I know about Jetfire and Jetstorm.

This probably won't be updated as regularly as "The More Things Change" was, but I'll try to keep it from gathering dust.


	2. Playing with Kids

"Playing with Kids" or "Hide and Seek"

By BlackMarketTrombones

---

Not for the first time, Prowl found himself musing on how young Jetfire and Jetstorm were for the Elite Guard as he watched them play in the sky above. They didn't look—or act—a stellar cycle older than Bumblebee, though he supposed possessing such unique abilities as flight protocols and a gestalt powerlink would go a long way toward making up for their inexperience in combat situations.

That did not, however, have any effect on their basic personality programming and the twins were given to both recklessly juvenile behavior and complete disregard for their surroundings—not uncommon for mechs of their temperament and stage of development, but when combined with their explosive firepower, the results could be… unfavorable.

As with their most recent flight of fancy.

Granted, the citizens of Detroit were growing more accustomed to the sight of giant, alien robots brawling in the middle of the streets, but such occurrences generally involved dastardly plots against life-as-we-know-it and the freedom of countless individuals.

Captain Fanzone was understandably unhappy to learn that the latest swath of destruction cut through his city was not due to the defense of such weighty matters, but of two bored prototypes who decided to goad each other into a wrestling match.

In the sky.

Far away from their ground-bound superiors and, coincidently, their shouted orders to cease and desist.

It quickly became apparent to Prowl that the Elite Guard had no idea how to deal with its own devastating duo.

This was unsurprising—_everyone_ was navigating in unfamiliar territory when it came to those two. They were twins, a rarity to be sure, and were always off in a world of their own making, unable to mesh with other Cybertronians under the best circumstances. They were Autobot fliers, the first and only of their kind, and so were mistaken for Decepticons with distressing regularity. They could control the elements and combine into one being, unheard of abilities that were baffling some of the greatest central processors on Cybertron.

No, there was nothing conventional about the twins.

It logically followed that they would only respond well to _unconventional_ methods.

The Elite Guard high command seemed to be having trouble grasping this.

Not that it mattered at the moment. Jazz and Sentinel Prime had their servos full dealing with the fallout Ultra Magnus' incapacitation back on Cybertron and were too busy to entertain their youthful charges.

Which left Prowl in his current predicament. The twins could not be left to their own devices after their whimsical rampage through downtown Detroit, that much was certain. Their immediate superiors were preoccupied with weightier affairs, asking Bumblebee to keep them out of trouble would be like feeding the fires, and the other Autobots weren't fast enough to keep up with them and keep them from boredom.

Thus Prowl was volunteered for the inauspicious task of looking after the twins—babysitting, Sari had called it to much snickering from Bumblebee. The term was more accurate than she probably realized; Prowl had already decided that treating the twins as he would fully matured Cybertronians would yield only minimally successful results.

Judging that they were far enough from civilization to avoid interruption, Prowl stopped and transformed in a small forest clearing, signaling to the twins following him overhead that they should land. They did so, only to find that their current caretaker was nowhere in sight.

"Perhaps we have landed in the wrong place, brother," Jetfire said doubtfully, looking at the flora around them with moderate interest.

"Perhaps, brother." Jetstorm's skeptical tone made Prowl smirk a bit from his hidden perch in the treetops before he created a hologram of himself to stand behind them.

"Today we are going to do something different," he said, unable to keep from grinning slightly at their startled reactions.

"A training exercise?" Jetstorm asked, he and his twin tilting their heads quizzically to the side.

"If you'd like to call it that. I am a Deceptican spy and it's your mission to capture me but," he held up a cautioning finger, " you must take care not to be destructive or innocent civilians will be injured. Understand?" They nodded in affirmation, identical grins betraying their arrogant anticipation of an easy exercise. "Good."

The hologram vanished from before their optics and Prowl could not resist a parting shot before he left to secure his position.

"Catch me if you can…"

---

A/N: Two weeks isn't a bad turn-about in my opinion. I don't know when I'll be able to get the next prompt up though--there's just so little out there about the twins.

Thanks to all of you who've read or reviewed! Until next time.


	3. Dancing

Dancing

By SuperMoose

---

"These video games are most excellent, brother," Jetfire said as he sent his car careening around a corner.

"Indeed, brother. We must thank Bumblebee for letting us borrow his game system," Jetstorm replied as he frowned in concentration.

"No need for thanks, guys," Bumblebee said as he vaulted onto the couch. "I'm just doing my duty as a fellow Autobot."

Jetfire grinned. "Still, we are most grateful for your generosity. I do not think Sentinel Prime is quite as grateful, though."

"Yes, he is being most grumpy lately."

"Bah, don't worry about that old rust bucket. I didn't come over here to talk about him anyway," Bumblebee said, settling on the couch. "I've got something much better in mind."

The twins looked at their yellow friend eagerly. "A new game?" they asked in unison.

"And not just any game," Bumblebee said grinning manically. "This, my flying friends, is the new DDR Extreme Mega Max Hot Mix 5, Dance Party Edition!!" he yelled, flourishing a game disk dramatically.

The twins stared at the small disk as if it were a holy relic. Jetfire recovered first. "Insert this awesomeness in the system, please!"

Jetstorm chimed in with, "Yes, hurry!"

Bumblebee grinned wider at their enthusiasm. "Sorry guys, I can't do it yet."

"Why is this?" Jetstorm asked, cocking his head.

"He's just waiting for me to arrive with the goods," said another voice from the doorway.

"Jazz, sir!" Both of the twins jumped up and saluted as the mech in question strode into the room with arms full.

"Relax, guys. We're off duty, remember?" Jazz reminded them as he set his burden in front of the screen. Bumblebee jumped up to help and was joined by the twins. However, they didn't know what they were doing, and thus were not terribly helpful. Eventually Jazz and Bumblebee exiled them to the couch and finished setting up the equipment.

The twins stared, wide-opticked at the set up. Four giant mats with different colored squares were laid out on the floor. There didn't seem to be any controllers in sight. What was going on?

"Umm, Bumblebee, Jazz sir, what is all this meaning?" Jetfire asked in confusion.

Bumblebee grinned hugely. "Don't worry guys, just let me explain."

---

"Where is everybot?" Sentinel Prime grumbled as he roamed the ship. It had been hours since he'd seen Jazz and the twins. This could only mean disaster. They were still dealing with the aftermath of "the noodle incident" from the last time they disappeared.

As he made his way down the corridor, he began to feel a slight throbbing through his stabilizing servos. After pinpointing the source of the disturbance, he quickened his pace and practically ran to the room. Who knew what horrible things were going on in there? And hadn't he seen that little yellow repair-bot come aboard? This was not a good combination.

Sentinel swiftly reached the door and impatiently waited for it to retract. At first all he could make out were a rhythmic pounding noise, a cacophony of yells and cheers, and bright, flashing lights. When he was able to fully process what he was seeing, he wished he hadn't. It seemed that the glitch from Optimus' crew had introduced another "video game" to the ship, but this one was unlike any Sentinel had seen before. Jetfire and Jetstorm were jumping around on large pads on the floor for some reason that Sentinel was not able to discern, while Jazz and the yellow bot cheered them on. After a few moments of standing in the door frame, Sentinel turned around and walked away. Maybe if he just acted like nothing had happened it would turn out to all be a glitch in his optics…

---

AN: Hope ya'll like this next installment of 28 Safeguards. This has been sitting unfinished on my computer for weeks now. I really need to stop procrastinating.


	4. At the Beach

"At the Beach"

By BlackMarketTrombones

---

"Brother, I do not think he is here."

Jetstorm glanced back at the thickly-wooded forest before turning to face forward. "I think not, brother," he agreed glumly, surveying the scene before him. "There is not being anywhere to hide."

He was right. Rather than the dense trees and underbrush Prowl could melt into, before them was a broad, flat expanse of some native liquid that glittered in the light of the planet's orbital focal point. Jetfire stepped forward curiously and yelped as the ground unexpectedly shifted. Intrigued, he scooped up a servo-full of loose soil and held it up at optic level.

"Brother, look!" he called out wonderingly as it slipped from his grasp. "What is it?"

Equally fascinated, Jetstorm scanned the granular material and said, "It is mostly silicon dioxide, brother, with trace contaminants such as quartz." He crouched down and trailed his finger digits through the gritty, off-white grains. "But I am not sure—"

"GAH!"

Jetstorm's head snapped up and he flung his arms up to protect his facial plates from a viscous red liquid that Jetfire was shaking from his servos.

"Ow!" he yelped as it struck him and _burned_. Instinctively, he activated his wind turbines and the heat quickly eased.

"Brother, are you alright?" Jetfire cried, aghast. "I was wondering what its reaction would be to being heated and—"

"Brother, look!" Jetstorm interrupted, visor bright with wonder. He delicately clasped a tiny pellet of opaque material and held it aloft. Sunlight filtered murkily past the contaminants, casting bizarre shadows on the ground. Distracted by the strange patterns, he accidently squeezed too tightly and it shattered, scattering infinitesimal gleaming shards through the air.

For a moment, everything was still as the twins gaped. In unison, they turned to the miles of earth stretching out in either direction; then matching grins crept across their facial plates and Jetfire turned on his flamethrowers.

---

A shriek of laughter followed by an earth-shattering crash rang through the forest, and Prowl shifted in his hiding place. That was one of the twins, he recognized, but they did not seem to be hunting for him anymore. Curious and more than a little suspicious of a trap, he took of in the direction of the shout.

During his stealthy approach there came a thunderous roar. Alarmed, Prowl quickened his pace, stopping just short of where the forest ended at the shore of Lake Erie. He peered cautiously out of the foliage and gaped.

The twins stood a few meters about on the beach, facing each other with identical expressions of intense concentration on the face plates. Jetstorm's turbines were activated and kicking up a remarkably controlled whirlwind of sand. Jetfire contributed by hurling flames into the volatile mix, resulting in a towering conflagration of a tornado. At some intangible signal, Jetfire stopped feeding the fires and Jetstorm deftly manipulated the swirling inferno until it cooled into an enormous glass sculpture that would abstract artist to shame.

Jetstorm slowly cut out the air from his turbines and watched anxiously as the massive glass monstrosity teetered precariously and began to topple. Laughing, the twins dove out of the way as the fruits of their efforts crashed to the ground and shattered, sending shimmering shards of glass sailing through the air only to fragment again upon landing.

Broken glass crunched underpede as the twins slowly stood. They stared at each other silently for a moment before exploding into giddy laughter.

"I am thinking we need to improve our methods, brother," Jetfire said when he was able. "They are always falling over."

"Perhaps it will stay standing up if you are turning off your flamethrowers more slowly, brother," Jetstorm offered. "It may be sturdier if I can cool the center first."

"If I may make a suggestion," Prowl cut in suddenly, causing the twins to start somewhat sheepishly as he stepped out of the shadows with a small smile, "you might be more successful if you create a broader base. That way your…ah, statue won't have to balance on its point."

The twins' expressions melted from surprise (and moderate guilt at having forgotten him) to consideration. Then, grinning, Jetstorm fired up his turbines.

---

A/N: What cuties. This is a direct continuation of "Playing with Kids," by the way, because Prowl's awesome.

On a side note, I discovered just how boring sand is when I had to find out what it's made of on Wikipedia.


	5. Excited

"Excited"

By BlackMarketTrombones

---

The twins were not expecting the welcome they received upon returning to Cybertron.

Sentinel Prime was currently quite popular as the rising Magnus, the returning war hero, the captor of several high-ranking Decepticon insurgents. Jazz was certainly one of the most admired members of the Elite Guard, both for his insane ninja skills and for his all-around cool factor. They were great celebrities among the general populace. It was expected that their return would draw a crowd.

Jetfire and Jetstorm were shocked to find a large portion of said crowd cheering their names when they stepped off the ship.

In hindsight, it shouldn't have been so surprising. They were young, talented, adorable, powerful, unique, fun, adorable… Actually, most of their admirers were femme-bots, many of whom began to swoon the moment they came into view.

The twins gaped and Sentinel Prime looked moderately put-out, but Jazz just grinned. He'd been expecting something like this to happen at some point—having had plenty of experience in that area himself—and wasn't too disappointed to pass on the dubious honor of "most eligible" to fresher targets. Dodging crazed fanfemmes in the street was easy, but it got old fast.

"Go," he said quietly to them. "Your adoring public awaits, and _somebot's_ got draw their attention so us ground-pounders can get through."

The twins beamed and, laughing, jumped into the air to tumultuous cheers.

---

A/N: I wasn't quite sure this one would work with the prompt, but the crowd _is_ fairly excited to see the conquering young heroes return.

A short one this time. I'd feel bad if the original prompt didn't call for hundred-word drabbles and if I didn't have an awesome Special sitting on my flash drive, waiting for intensive editing. I don't know when you'll get it. Probably in a week or two.


	6. Special: In the Sky

Special: "In the Sky"

By BlackMarketTrombones

---

Jazz was just cruisin' along being his general fantastic self when he was all of a sudden struck with a hefty premonition of twins-up-to-no-good. Actually, it wasn't so much a premonition as a tree and because Jetstorm picked himself up out of the fallen treetop (which, while no longer on top of its own trunk, retained this title because it was on top of Jazz's hood), shook a few loose branches out of his joints, and leapt into the air with near-manic laughter, the conclusion that they were involved was less a sudden stroke of clairvoyance than the logical result of the obvious line of reasoning.

Still, he was struck so suddenly and so swiftly that, for several seconds, he could only see the surprising strangeness of the supremely startling situation. That and branches. Very large branches that got tangled up in his joints when he transformed. It must have made a silly sight because it drove Bumblebee into hysterics when he pulled up.

"I guess Prowl's rubbing off on you," he managed to choke out between sniggers, "but I don't think this is what he means when he says he wants to be 'one with nature.'"

To this, Jazz (after rolling out of the tree and sprawling across the street) displayed his infinite wit and charm/suavity by eloquently responding, "Ungh."

"Jazz?" Bumblebee said, sobering slightly. "You okay?"

Jazz once again proved his intellectual merit. "Ungh."

"Hang on, I'll call Ratch—"

Something exploded. Namely, a blimp that was circling overhead. The blimp ceased its circuitous circling and fell from the firmament in a flaming freefall.

People screamed and ran amok. The twins laughed gleefully, ignorant of the chaos they were causing below. Jazz offered up his opinion on the whole situation.

"Ungh," he groaned, completely unwilling to expend the energy required to move.

Fortunately, Optimus Prime arrived (with half the Detroit Fire Department in tow) in time to douse the torched blimp before it turned him to toasted titanium. Unfortunately, immediately after saving his sorry skid-plate from the flaming conflagration, Optimus Prime demanded to know just what the _frag_ the twins thought they were doing and wouldn't take a dazed "ungh" for an answer.

Jazz sat up (an action which caused his entire cranial unit to ache) and listened intently to the twins (it was surprisingly difficult to hear their giddy laughter through the bedlam they'd unwittingly caused below). He sighed and flopped back to the ground.

"Thur playin'," he slurred, shutting off his optical sensors.

A beat of silence (except for the sirens and the screaming and the combined roar of flamethrowers and wind turbines overhead), then:

"_What?"_

Optimus Prime hauled him up by the shoulders and held him at optic-level. "Make them stop," he all but growled.

Jazz tilted his head back and squinted up. Jetstorm dive-tackled his twin and they tumbled helm-over-heel through a hapless office building. "Comm.'s down," he said mournfully.

"What? _Why?_"

Jazz gestured ambiguously to the side. "Stormy un'tentionally knocked it on me," he clarified when Optimus raised a questioning optic-ridge at the surprisingly large and majestic tree (or rather, the surprisingly large and majestic heap of splintered wood).

Optimus sighed and set Jazz on his feet (he swayed a bit but stayed upright). "Where's Sentinel Prime?"

"'Oled up in th'ship," Jazz explained somewhat blearily. "'E don' much like organic…stuff."

A tongue of flame licked the ground not ten feet from where they stood, and he groaned. "Guess I better get 'em."

"Wait!" Bumblebee piped up. "How're you gonna do that? You can't fly."

Jazz frowned in thought but almost immediately brightened up as he was struck (figuratively, this time) by a Brilliant Plan.

"M'gunna climb tha' tower," he said cheerily, "'n jump on 'em."

"THE _PIT_ YOU ARE!"

Prowl and Bulkhead pulled up behind a very vocal Ratchet.

"Lie down," said medic growled.

"But—"

"_Down!"_

Jazz wisely decided that meek compliance was the best course of action. "Yessir!" he slurred, snapping a smart salute before collapsing backwards.

"—just suffered severe head trauma and he thinks he can go jumping all over Primus' creation. Of all the slaggin' stupid… Where did you even get the _idea_ of doing that?"

"Seen it done a few times," Jazz mumbled. "Coupl'a frontliners 'nvented it. Call it jet judo. Works on the 'Cons."

Ratchet sat back on his heels and looked amazed. "They jump on Decepticon fliers? _In mid__-__air?_"

"An' steer 'em to th'ground," Jazz chirped cheerfully.

"Idiots," Ratchet grumbled.

"Did _you_ ever do that?" Bulkhead asked.

"Nope."

"Not brave enough?" Bumblebee challenged.

"Not stupid enough, probably," Prowl corrected. "The margin of error is too small and a mistake would mean a long fall to an untimely demise. However, the limited range of flight provided by my jetpacks should be enough to ensure my survival should I miss and begin to plummet to my death."

Bumblebee gaped, almost awed. "You're _doing_ it?"

"Are you out of your processor?" Ratchet demanded.

"Prowl—" Optimus was cut off by a distant explosion.

"Do you have any other suggestions?" Prowl asked mildly.

Ten minutes later, he was wrestling Jetstorm to the ground. Jazz found the display highly reminiscent of the human rodeos he'd seen clips of on YouTube (he'd been thoroughly enjoying himself exploring the internet when he was supposed to be on surveillance duty).

"Ride 'im, cowboy," he giggled.

Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Optimus stared at him in bewilderment. Ratchet grumbled about head trauma. Prowl and Jetstorm crashed to the ground and skidded down the street.

"What were you doing that for?" Jetfire demanded, landing lighting next to them. He received a mouthful of flame-retardant foam as Optimus opened preemptive fire, presumably because his flaming feet were melting puddles in the asphalt.

"Don't," he said, holding up a hand to stymie the inevitable indignant protests. "Unless you had a good reason for destroying half of Detroit in a protoform's wrestling match."

A nearby human—short and stocky with a crown of yellow on his helm—burst into a long, loud string of what Jazz recognized as obscenities.

"Hey now," he murmured disapprovingly. "Thur's kids 'ere." The human looked confused so he waved a hand vaguely at the twins. "Jes' a couple hunnerd years old."

"Jazz sir?" Jetstorm sounded only slightly squished from beneath Prowl.

"What is being wrong with him?"

Ratchet started raving about head trauma again and the twins looked about as abashed as they'd ever been (which, when Jazz really worked to focus his scattered thoughts, probably wasn't too hard).

"Sorry," the twins chimed, and they seemed like they meant it so Jazz smiled reassuringly (or he tried to—it was a bit too loopy to be especially reassuring).

"Don' you worry yer lil' heads 'bout it," he slurred. "Kids'll be kids."

Though he wondered how—if all fliers were so difficult as younglings—the Decepticons had lasted so long.

---

A/N: I meant to have this up sooner, but then band camp happened. Sorry.

This was originally going to be "Silly," but I decided it was turning out not to have much of the twins. But it involves them, so Special!

Yes, this is tied in with "Playing with Kids." And, by extension, "At the Beach," I suppose, but mostly "Playing with Kids."

Also, alliterations are awesome.


End file.
